


Defying Discipline

by Verai



Series: RDR2 tumblr Requests [10]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Classroom Sex, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, F/M, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Low Honor Arthur Morgan, Professor Kink, Punishment, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sexual Coercion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-21 17:03:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18706582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verai/pseuds/Verai
Summary: After several years in the workforce, you decide to go back to get your Master’s degree. Unfortunately, you need some requisites first, so you take some night classes at your local community college. When you show some attitude to the local art professor, he takes your discipline into his own hands.





	Defying Discipline

**Author's Note:**

> It would be easy to make the reader college-aged. But NO. That’s cliche. Let’s do this the HARD way. (Heh, I made a JOKE.). But really, I just wanted to imagine getting boned by Arthur. My dear anon who requested this, I hope this hits your professor kink hard, because it hit mine with a goddamn nuke.
> 
> Original Request:  
> i love your writing! i would like to request something to satisfy both my lust for Arthur and my teacher kink. like, Arthur is the hot art professor, and the reader gets caught like playing on her phone in class or something and Arthur uses it as an excuse to punish them 👀

You had been working for seven years after college, rising the ranks at a graphic design firm and getting better and better with each assignment. But you had hit a wall. You failed to get promoted this past round, and your mentor at work had suggested getting your Master’s degree to get ahead. 

When you had researched grad programs, you found that because you had a different major in college, you had to take some prerequisite courses, much to your annoyance. You knew how to sketch, you knew how to use negative space, you  _ knew _ these things. But the graduate program you wanted to get into didn’t accept your portfolio as a substitute; you had to take the courses.

So here you were, sitting in a classroom with a bunch of freshmen, ready to start a drawing class that was going to be a snooze fest.

That is, until the professor walked in.

All eyes went to him; his swagger just generated a masculinity that even affected you. The strength in his arms couldn’t be hidden by the blue striped Oxford shirt, with two buttons undone at the top, revealing just a tease of his broad chest. His sleeves were rolled up, and his jeans were fitting very nicely on his hips. Did this man know what he was doing?

And then he turned to face the class. His face peppered with a five o’clock shadow that made him look a bit rough, with full, kissable lips that quirked in a lopsided smile as he surveyed the class. His eyes were a unique color, and you felt yourself drawn in before you quickly shook your head. Okay, at least the professor was hot. But he didn’t look much older than you, so you didn’t expect much.

“Name’s Arthur Morgan. You can call me Arthur, or Professor Morgan if you like, though I’m not a fan of formalities.”

He looked at each student as he spoke, and when his eyes reached you, he paused for a split second longer than the others. The heat from his gaze lingered in your mind as he continued to gaze at the rest of the class.

“Okay then, let’s begin.”

***

You sat and watched the other students file out of the classroom, feeling somewhat chastened by Professor Morgan’s final comment to you during the sketching session.

“Please stay after class,” he had said quietly into your ear. You had sighed then, knowing that you had been a complete ass. You were sick of all the sycophantic questions during the lecture portion, so you had started answering them, but after a few too many answers, the professor had called you out on it, asking that you let him do his job. So you had shut your mouth and doodled until it was time to sketch the fruit bowl in the center of the room.

Now everyone was gone, he turned and walked towards you as you packed up your things.

“You’re quite knowledgeable. Why are you here?” he asked, standing a mere foot from you, looking intimidating as hell.

“I need the credit for grad school,” you said.

“And of all the sections you coulda signed up for, why this one?” His voice dropped, his tone lower.

“It fit my work schedule,” you mumbled, not liking where this line of conversation was going.

“Then maybe you should be good, or I will insist that you drop this class,” he nearly growled.

Shit, you hadn’t realized how pissed off he was. His glare was intense, and you gulped. 

“I… I’ll be good,” you said.

“I’ll hold ya to yer word,” he drawled, stepping aside to let you leave. You hurried away into the night air, looking back to see him watching you from the doorway, an inscrutable look on his face.

***

Of course, you tried to be good. But three weeks later, after a particularly bad day at work, you were back to your snarky ways. Arthur had to eventually ask you to quiet down or leave the classroom, and when everyone looked at you, glaring, you mumbled an apology and shut your mouth again.

And once again, while everyone was sketching a collection of vases in the center of the room, he came up to you and asked you to stay afterwards.

So here you were again, watching everyone leave.

Except this time, once the last student had left, the professor locked the door behind them. You immediately stood up. That was a bad sign.

He started to stalk towards you, and you instinctively backed away. 

“Look, I’m sorry Arthur—”

“That’s Professor Morgan, fer you,” he rumbled, stepping closer to you, making you press your back against the wall.

You swallowed. Oh, he was really pissed. “Professor Morgan, I’m sorry, I had a bad day at work, and I let it get to me here, and that wasn’t professional, and I’ll be good, please don’t drop me from the class,” you begged, all in one breath. You really couldn’t afford to slow down your grad school plans any further.

His lips quirked upward for a second. “I like the sound of ya beggin’,” he said, barely above a whisper. He tipped your chin up with his forefinger, caressing your lower lip with his thumb. “Convince me not to drop you.”

Something simmered in his gaze. You glanced past him at the door.

“Oh, you can go. But you ain’t comin’ back if you do,” he said, chuckling darkly. “Your choice.”

You glared at him. 

“Maybe I need to keep you in line.” He took another step closer to you, his body only millimeters away from yours. You felt the hard outline in his pants brush against your thigh, and your body reacted without your consent, a heat pooling between your legs.

“If you wanted to fuck, you could’ve had any of those other students,” you said, not believing this was happening; you didn’t have a body that men generally enjoyed, at least in your experience. “All those girls were staring at you with hearts in their eyes.”

“Not interested. Like you said, they’re girls.” He grabbed you by the hips and pressed his body against yours. “I want a woman.” His grip tightened on you as he kissed you, his tongue invading your mouth, scorching you with the heat of his desire. 

“We can’t do this,” you mumbled, but incredibly turned on.

He reached up under your shirt, pulling down your bra, and palming your breasts. You let out a moan before you could stop yourself.

“We’re both adults. We can do what we want. So, you stayin’?”

It was hard to think as his fingers pinched and teased your nipples. You managed to nod.

"Good. I think you need to make up for your disrespect," he said before he grabbed your throat and forced you to your knees. Unzipping his fly, he pulled out his thick cock and stroked himself a couple of times before nudging your lips with the tip. “Open up.”

You took his shaft into your mouth and nearly choked when he pushed in. He held your head still as he thrust into you, making you gag and drool. He was rough, his hands digging into your hair and tugging on you as he used you like a sex doll. You reached up to his thighs and tried pushing him away to give yourself a moment to breathe, but he was too strong, and just kept shoving himself in and out of your wet mouth.

Finally he stopped and dragged you up by your neck again. Looking down at you with saliva dripping from your lips, he smeared it over your chin with his thumb.

“Now, you keep interruptin’ me durin’ class, I’ll fuck your throat afterwards. Am I clear?”

You were silent, glaring up at him stubbornly.

He slapped your face. Not hard, but it surprised you. “Am. I. Clear?” he snarled.

“Yes, Professor,” you answered hoarsely.

“Beg. How much do you wanna stay?”

“I really need to stay, please, I’ll do anything, just let me stay,” you pleaded.

He slapped you again, and then shoved you towards the desk. Bending you over, he lifted up your skirt and pulled your panties to one side. Pushing one finger inside of your already wet slit, he laughed darkly.

“Such a slutty body, wet from suckin’ me off. You want more, darlin?”

You were silent, embarrassed and ashamed of your body’s wanton reaction to this man. He was threatening to drop you from the class! You should be angry! But instead, as he slipped a second finger inside of you and started to thumb your clit, you just moaned and stuck your ass out a bit higher to give him easier access to you.

He took his fingers out and rubbed your ass. “So good to hold onto,” he murmured as he grabbed you and squeezed your flesh. “Bet it makes a nice sound too.”

“What’s that mean?” you asked, just as he spanked you hard. You squeaked in surprise.

“That’s what I mean,” he said, and spanked you again and again. “I’m gonna spank you until you learn your place.”

“My? Place?” Each word of your question was punctuated by a spank.

“Yeah, your place. Bent over, takin’ my cock.”

You were offended for a half second before you felt the tip of him delving into you, his girth splitting you open as he pushed deeper inside you. All you could do was moan and breathe hard as you tried to relax your body enough to take his thickness, but it had been so long, and you knew you were tight. You panted as you straddled the line between pleasure and pain, blinking back tears.

“That’s right, cry, darlin’. You been a bad woman tonight, haven’t ya?”

You sniffed and rubbed your eyes on your arms as Arthur filled you up, his hips pushed up against your ass, his body crushing you against the desk. He nibbled on your neck, and breathed on your ear.

“You on the pill?”

You nodded. You hadn’t been on any dates in a while, but you liked the regularity of the pill.

“Good,” was all he said before he pulled back out and slammed back into you, starting a brutal pace as he fucked you against the desk, making you cry out with each thrust. You were worried that someone would come back to the classroom and find you, but Arthur didn’t seem to care, the table banging with his movements. He grabbed your arms, linking your wrists together in his big hand and pulling you back, using your arms like the reins of a horse. Every once in a while, he’d smack your ass, just to hear you yelp. 

Eventually he wrapped a hand around your neck as he gripped your hip with the other and took you harder, pushing you against the cold metal. “You like takin’ it rough?”

“Yes!”

“You want my cum?”

“Yes, please, use me Professor!”

He growled, letting go of your neck and grabbing your hips with both hands as he pumped wildly into you before you felt him release inside of you, hot seed spilling from his cock deep into your pussy.

“Fuck, such a good slut,” he groaned as he shoved himself as deep as he could go and stayed still, letting himself grow soft while still inside of you. As he slipped out, he took a step back and let out a shaky laugh. “Damn. Haven’t fucked that hard in a while.”

You lay on his desk, panting hard, feeling his cum start to drip out of you and slide down your thigh. When he flipped you over and shoved his cum back inside of you, you gasped. Pulling your legs up onto his shoulders so that your ass was up in the air, he started to thumb your clit with one hand, and fondled your breast with the other.

“Lemme watch you come, darlin’,” he rumbled, and played with your clit and nipples as you writhed on the desk, his hands on you too much stimulation after being fucked so thoroughly. Your legs tensed, your back arched, and you came with his fingers rubbing you, pressing down as you screamed, forcing your body into convulsions with the added pressure on your already sensitive clit.

As you fell back down to earth, gasping hard and trying to remember why you were here, Arthur let your legs down off his shoulders, and went to grab a paper towel and ran it under some water before handing it to you. As you cleaned yourself up, you looked at him, cleaning himself off and tucking himself back into his pants.

“So… can I stay, Professor?” you asked, hesitantly.

He turned back to you and gave you the sexiest smile. Bending over you, he kissed you gently, cradling your head in his hand.

“Sure,” he said, his voice deep and husky, an after-sex kind of voice. “As long as you stay after every time.”


End file.
